Standing Aside
by BananaLoaf
Summary: Athos' point of view through the events of the finale and after the final showdown. Athos/d'Artagnan relationship. MAJOR spoilers! Angst and fluff :)


_A/N Ok, I have no idea where this came from! I just kind of started writing and then it all happened._

_Please do not read if you haven't seen the finale episode, this will completely spoil it for you!_

_D'Art/Athos all the way! _

It took a while for Athos to decide whether it was best to get properly drunk or not. For one thing, he needed to be convincing in his depressed rage, and in his fight with d'Artagnan. But d'Artagnan...Athos needed to shoot him, shoot him! It was the only way the plan would work, and he knew it. He needed to be sober to make sure he didn't do him any lasting damage with a careless shot, but he needed to be blind drunk if he was going to be able to shoot the man. He couldn't remember anything he had dreaded doing more.

But in the end it had been easy to shoot him. With one arm wrapped around the neck of his hated wife, he had listened as she called for d'Artagnan to help her, trying to seduce the boy into saving her, even at that moment. Athos had been tempted to finish her there and then, but he had been just sober enough to remember the plan, to remember his promises, and to see the tears in d'Artagnan's eyes as the boy told him he could not let him commit murder.

He knew the meaning behind the genuine tears that threatened to spill, knew the sentiment behind them and the sadness d'Artagnan truly felt about the way that Athos blamed himself for everything. That's why it had been easy. He owed it to him to go through with it, to not let himself sink further into this guilt that had consumed him for five years.

When Treville arrived on cue, Athos saw d'Artagnan move towards him and pulled the trigger. Easy.

The difficulty came with staying away from him until the allotted time. When at last they were face to face in Treville's office, he felt a stab of guilt as he saw the boy's pale complexion, heard the jested rebuke that he had shot him in the wrong place. His heart only began beating freely once more when they shared a grin, and d'Artagnan opened his arms to his fellow musketeers, a celebratory hug.

Athos found himself wishing profusely that the others would disappear for a moment, allow him time to hold d'Artagnan to him in solitude, whisper his apologies, check his wounds. But it would have to wait. Instead he had to make do with a quick glance and a wink from the boy, a promise held within.

Even then had no time to be alone, not until the whole mess was finished with. When they revealed his state of living to Anne he savoured the grin that spread over d'Artagnan's face as he watched him approach. He felt the comfort coming from the Gascon in waves as Anne tried to lay all her doings at his feet. The warmth of the gaze on his back from the boy was not enough to allay his guilt, but later. Later he would feel better.

He tried not to feel jealousy stirring in his heart as d'Artagnan kissed Constance back so thoroughly when the siege was over. Shortly afterwards, as he walked past the pair and moved on, throwing away the chain that had lived as a noose around his neck all this time, he could feel the younger man's eyes staring desperately at him. But he would not look; he could not catch his eye at this time. Later there may be time for explanations.

A celebration was required at the end of the day. Athos, Aramis and Porthos made their way to their favourite tavern, d'Artagnan having disappeared for the moment. Athos toasted with the others, and tried to laugh along with them as they joked about what d'Artagnan would be doing as they drank. He had expected this; they had discussed the necessity of carrying on life as normal, of keeping secrets. Constance was perfect for keeping their secret. Perhaps the boy did still think he loved her after all. A fist squeezed around Athos' heart.

Aramis and Porthos seemed not to notice as he got increasingly morose as d'Artagnan failed to turn up. It only passed through his head for a brief second that he hadn't actually told the boy where to find him. Athos sat quietly and watched his friends celebrate the triumph of their plan, glad to see that they were happy and jovial in their success. He decided eventually that the best thing to do would be to leave before they began questioning him. He did not want to lie about grieving for his lost marriage.

His friends accepted his excuses and toasted him again as he left, forcing a small grin in their direction. He pulled his hat low over his head as he exited the tavern, not wishing to meet anyone he knew, as by now everyone would have heard about the musketeers' latest adventure on the streets of Paris.

As he entered his home he pulled the hat from his head, climbing the stairs slowly as he felt the weight of the day settle on his shoulders. He pushed open the door to his rooms, intent on finding the bottle of wine he knew was under his bed.

Instead he found a young Gascon languishing on top of it. Athos stopped dead for a moment, before entering the room and shutting the door roughly behind him. He ignored d'Artagnan as he went to the end of the bed, reaching under for the stashed bottle, before pulling the cork out of it with his teeth and drinking deeply from it. He slumped at the table, his back to the bed, fully aware that d'Artagnan was watching him warily the whole time.

Within seconds of sitting he felt arms snake around his neck from behind, and breathy kisses dropped into his hair in between whispered apologies. He stayed ramrod still, refusing to melt into the embrace like he wanted to. Instead he took another drink from the bottle, ignoring the sad sigh behind him. The arms wrapped tighter around him and d'Artagnan's head appeared at the side of his face, which was soon peppered with the same kisses. As d'Artagnan's mouth approached the corner of his, Athos suddenly found that he couldn't sit there anymore and he stood abruptly, the hold around his neck disappearing quickly.

He found himself shouting suddenly, his voice gruff with hurt. He shouted his understanding that d'Artagnan was only doing what they had agreed must happen, that appearances must be upheld. He shouted louder when he cursed d'Artagnan for acting on it in front of him, for disappearing with her afterwards, then coming to him when he was finished with her. He couldn't understand the confused look on the boy's face.

Suddenly, the anger left him and he went to sit on the edge of the bed in despair, his head in his hands. In a steady voice that belied the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes he told d'Artagnan that he couldn't do this after all. He accepted that Constance could make the younger man happy, that any relationship with him was too complicated, too dangerous.

He heard d'Artagnan's knees hit the floor as he came to kneel in front of him, felt the gentle hands that pulled his hands away from his face, that tilted up his chin so that his blurry eyes were met with d'Artagnan's own teary ones. He watched as d'Artagnan moved slowly closer to him, allowing his eyes to finally flicker closed as their lips met. He allowed himself to feel in for a moment, before shutting down his heart again, and pulling his face away. But d'Artagnan would not let him go.

The desperation was clear in d'Artagnan's voice as he tried to explain himself. That he had known that kissing Constance back would hurt Athos, but he couldn't pull away when she initiated it or Porthos and Aramis would ask questions.

He leaned forward and kissed Athos' clenched hands that sat tightly on his knees before explaining that he had contemplated doing what they agreed, for a brief moment. That he had kissed her again after they left. Athos' head fell to his chest as he tried not to picture the scene that d'Artagnan painted. He felt two hands cup his face, and allowed d'Artagnan to lift his head once again. He searched desperately in d'Artagnan's eyes for sincerity when he explained that he had felt nothing but relief when he had been given an opportunity to get out of his promise to Constance, that he was relieved to know at least that her husband loved her. That he cared for Constance of course, but she did not have his heart.

Athos stared at d'Artagnan for a few moments more, then let a smile cross his face as he saw the love that shone there. Truly and honestly shining in the boy's eyes.

With a growl he leaned forward and grabbed him round the waist, twisting both their bodies as he pulled them both onto the bed, so that d'Artagnan lay trapped underneath him. He looked down at the beautiful face below him, grinning up at him, and fought the urge to smother it with kisses. Instead he lowered his head until their foreheads touched, and whispered his own apologies. He was swiftly told to stop.

He grinned back as d'Artagnan announced there would be no more apologies between them, that from now on there would be just them. Secret as they would have to be, there would be no more misunderstandings or pretence of other lovers. Athos brought their lips together in a searing kiss, grateful that d'Artagnan had turned up to show him this other side to himself. The kiss was met with one of equal passion, and Athos listened as their kisses and whispers mingled as they voiced their love once again.

With his heart settled once more, it was time to let d'Artagnan take away his guilt, to make him feel truly better after everything that had happened.

It was time to make good on the promise he had seen in the wink shared in their oblivious captain's office.

_A/N Please let me know what you think! _


End file.
